CHAPTER ONE

      THE BALLROOM AT the Whittier Hotel in downtown Detroit glittered under the dozen chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling. Cassie Lowman felt a crick in her neck start to form as she stared at the opulent murals decorating the ceiling above her head. While it wasn’t her favorite aesthetic, she could appreciate the artistry. Too ornate and fussy for her—she would rather have something be beautiful in its simplicity.

      A tuxedoed waiter passed by with a tray of half-filled champagne flutes. She snagged one before returning her gaze to the ceiling. She lifted her glass for a brief salute and then started to scan the room for familiar faces.

      In truth, most of the faces were known to her as well as their names. These were her father’s former competitors—building contractors who had rejoiced when he’d failed and patted themselves on their backs while they swooped in and stole his clientele. She tasted the bitterness and anger at the back of her throat, so she tipped the champagne flute and drank the bubbly liquid before leaving the empty glass on a nearby table. Maybe it was better for her to look for new friends.

      Speaking of friends, the Buttucci brothers, Tiny and Biggie, waved at her from the other side of the ballroom. She started to wobble in her shoes as she walked toward them. Blast her mother for insisting she wear high heels to this kickoff event. She wasn’t a heels kind of woman. Nor a fancy dress type, either, she thought, as she tugged at the neckline. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had something to flaunt, but she knew her limitations.

      Biggie held a beer in his hands, and Cassie eyed it with envy. She approached the brothers, who were like family to her, especially now that she hoped to be helming the business, rather than her dad. “I’m glad you two could come. I don’t know if I could face this alone, chosen or not.”

      Tiny looked behind her. “Your mother’s not here?”

      “Mother decided that if she came with me that it would mean she approved of this venture.” Cassie shook her head. “And we all know where she stands on that.”

      Tiny put his hand on her shoulder. “She’ll get over it in time.”

      “Yesterday, her last words on the phone to me were, and I quote, ‘Forget the company already. It’s an anchor dragging you down.’ End quote.” Not that the company had many assets left after her father had taken most of them when he disappeared, and the rest had been sold to pay off debts. She’d had to tell employees who had been with her father for decades that they should seek employment elsewhere. Even her sister who had been the construction office’s receptionist had found a new job within weeks of his disappearance. The only two who had refused to leave her stood with her now. Cassie tugged again at the dress she’d borrowed from her older sister. “She doesn’t get it. I want to win the quarter of a million prize money so that I can start the business over and hire everyone back.”

      Biggie grunted and sipped his beer while Tiny patted her shoulder again. “It will all work out. It always does.”

      She wished she had his confidence. Her father’s building company seemed to be just another thing that stood between her and her mother. Growing up, Cassie had heard about how ladies didn’t come home covered in sawdust or with calloused hands. Ladies wore dresses, not plaid shirts and jeans. Her older sister, Andromeda, had filled the bill according to her mother’s requirements. Couldn’t her mother be happy that she had one perfect daughter?

      But Lowman Construction meant something to Cassie, even if her mother had turned her back on it. Not only had it been her means of income, it was her lifeblood. She’d put years of her life into it at her father’s side, and she hoped to continue without him. She wanted to bring it back to what it had once been. She had to.

      Cassie glanced again at Biggie’s beer. “Where can I get one of those?”

      He pointed to a long wood-and-brass bar where several people milled, and she walked toward it. People murmured as she passed them, but she chose to hold her head high and ignore the comments. She paused a moment when she tottered again and the heel on one shoe threatened to bend and snap, but she slowed her gait and joined the line of those waiting for a drink.

      She heard a scratchy voice talking ahead of her and recognized the gravelly tones of Bill Swenson, one of her father’s chief rivals. “I don’t understand why some people can’t let go of failure and get on with their lives. Did you see her name on the list? Does she have to waste her time and ours by entering this contest?”

      A man next to him sneered. “Bill, you know why she entered. To redeem her father’s name.”

      Cassie swallowed again at the bitter taste in her mouth. They could only be talking about her. She thought about leaving the line without getting her beer, but the temptation to eavesdrop was too great.

      Bill laughed. “Redeem? She’d have to do a lot more than win some contest to do that. How about paying back the people he stole from? You ask me, she’s cut from the same cloth as her old man.” He spotted her. Giving her a sardonic grin, he winked. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

      Tears threatened to choke her, but she wasn’t going to let anyone, especially Bill, see how